The Philosopher Games
by KaidaThorn
Summary: One brother volunteers for the younger one, but the youngest foolishly volunteers to save their childhood friend. How can these brothers win in an arena of twenty-five tributes and only two victors, They can team up, but there are others who will sway their opinions. And the rules? Live or die. Let the games begin.
1. Resembool of East Area

**Welcome everyone! **

**So I'm not going to make this a FMA/HG crossover because of the fact that the only crossover is that Amestris now has their own version of the games. If I need to add the Hunger Game category, someone let me know. Thanks :)**

**For now, the story will be Rated T. I'm not sure how descriptive violence will get, so I will change accordingly when the chance arises.**

**This is all that I can think of to say right now... So enjoy :D!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or The Hunger Games! Please don't sue me!**

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**Chapter 1: Resembool of East Area**

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It is the distant sound of crackling that wakes me from my slumber. My eyes snap open and I bolt up in my bed. One of my hands rubs the sweat off of my forehead, the result of whatever dream I was having; I cannot remember what had happened. From the corner of my eye, I can see Brother looking at me, hunched over a transmutation circle.

I turn towards him and I see a clock in the center of the circle. That explains the crackling I had heard. Edward grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his head. "I accidentally broke the alarm clock." A quick glance from me to our conjoined bedside table confirms this."I was fixing it so I could wake you."

"Why didn't you just try to wake me up yourself?" I ask. I throw a smirk at him, knowing that he hadn't thought of that. That's one of my favorite things about my older brother: he is very rash.

"I don't know, Alphonse! How about you tell me why I didn't think of that!" he shouts, his temper flaring. This is the other thing I love about my brother: he has such a short-temper. But I wouldn't be caught dead admitting that out loud. He would literally kill me if I mentioned his shortness, especially now that I was taller than him.

"What time is it?" I ask. The sun might be rising now, but I cannot tell. It looks pretty cloudy outside.

"I don't know, Alphonse!" Brother repeats. "Look at the clock!" He stands up and drops the chalk he holds. "It doesn't matter. Get ready and meet me outside. We need to practice."

He turns to walk out of the room, but I stop him. "Why? It's not like we're going to be chosen!" He stares down at the ground and I can only guess what he is thinking. One should never doubt the impossible. "Alright, Brother, I'll be down soon."

Edward walks out the door and heads down the stairs. I listen as Pinako greets him. Even though I'm alone, I force a smile. I pull myself out of bed and walk over to the closet. I grab the outfit that can only be worn today. I slip into the black pants and I slide the white shirt over my arms, buttoning it up. I sling the vest over my shoulder; I'm going to have to wait until after we spar to put it on.

I glance into the mirror that hangs on the wall and I smooth my golden-blonde hair down, keeping my hair down the middle. I like to imagine that I look like mom – golden-blonde hair, gold eyes, and a broad face. I sigh inwardly. I am being honest when I say that I cannot remember her that well.

My goofy grin becomes larger the longer that I stare at the mirror. I look decently presentable and Pinako will not reprimand me. For now.

I race out of the room and down the stairs. I run pass Pinako. "Good morning!" I cry to her before I open the door.

"Alphonse, please tell me you're not encouraging the spar on today of all days," she sighs. I trace back my steps and look into the kitchen where her voice comes from. She sits at the table, smoking her pipe. "You boys are going to get dirty before we even reach East City."

"Don't worry, Pinako, we'll be quick and well, just like we always are," I reassure. I rush out the house and down the path to where Brother is waiting for me. I think Pinako yelled something as I left, but I didn't hear it. She probably mentioned something about brushing our hair when we come back, as she does every year.

Even in the darkness I can see Brother up ahead, standing with his weight shifted to one side. He has a hand on his hip. I smile and wave at him, but he continues to frown.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asks me as I finally come to stand in front of him.

I chuckle. "You look good too," I say, eyeing his outfit. It's the one that he usually wears – black trousers, a sleeveless black shirt, and a jacket with silver adorning the edges. But today of all days deserves a little more humor than usual. I ruffle his hair.

The single strand of hair on his head twitches in annoyance, just like the vein that begins to throb on his forehead. "DON'T TREAT ME LIKE A LITTLE KID!" Ed yells at me. He stomps the ground and points accusingly at me. "WHO ARE YOU TREATING LIKE THE LITTLE RUNT THAT YOU ONCE WERE!?"

I hold my hands defensively in front of me. "I wasn't trying to treat you like anything! I swear."

His antenna twitches again and he calms down, eyeing me suspiciously. "Fine, whatever you say," he says, speaking through a jutted out bottom lip. I mentally laugh; he's acting like a kid.

As I think about all the jokes about my brother, I find myself falling backwards and roughly hitting the ground. I groan. "What was that for?" I ask, going to push myself up, but Brother knocks me back down when he triumphantly places his foot on my chest and pushes down. "Oof!" All the air races out of my lungs.

"To train the mind to its potential, you gotta train the body," Edward recites. He takes his foot off of me. I look up at him and I can his shadowed eyes. "Even if we haven't been chosen yet, there's still a chance, and we have to be ready for it."

Brother is right. We could be chosen to participate in the games at any time; our names were put in enough times; it's a miracle that we haven't been chosen yet. I could argue with him and say that I wasn't ready to fight or I wasn't expecting it to happen. But if we were in the games, somebody wouldn't care, and they would use that to their full ability. Their body and mind would both be trained to do the worst.

I roll over onto my stomach, ready to push myself up. "I suppose you're right." As I push myself up, I twist my body around and throw a kick to Brother's chest. He shows the same reaction that I must have showed.

"What the hell was that for?!" he accuses.

I grin. "I guess my mind and body are ready when I actually think about it."

He nods, grinning up at me. "Perfect." I reach my hand out to him and he grabs it, pulling himself up. "Now let's get ready."

We throw punches and kicks at one another, dodging each one. We have to act as if this is a real fight. Any stumble could mean our doom. Our mindset is also focused on what could currently happen: if we return home with any scratches or scars, Pinako would have her way with us.

Or worst. Winry.

Edward breathes exasperatedly, trying to steady himself. He gives up and collapses backwards onto the ground, outstretching his arms and legs. I sit beside him, pulling my knees up to my chest. His right hand stretches up towards the now rising sun. He stares at the fleshy color of his hand as it blocks the sun. He closes his palm and brings it back towards him.

"Why can't we just roam free?" Ed asks.

I turn my head towards him. Travelling is something that should not be thought of in Amestris. It's a taboo to leave the town where you grow up. The Fuhrer had once explained why it would be best to not travel: "Travelling gives ideas to the free-will. For our country to effectively run, we must stay where we are meant to stay."

"The only good thing about participating in the games is that you're allowed to travel," he comments, not even thinking about what he's saying.

I shoot up and I stare at him, my mouth gaping open. He can't even be serious. I see his gold eyes shift as he looks at me. He also sits up and flicks his wrist. "I don't really mean it." My eyes soften. A look apparently crosses my face because he continues speaking, "Al, you don't have to worry. I would never willingly offer myself to participate in the games. That's a death sentence."

A death sentence? That's right. Out of the twenty-five children who go in, only two make it out. In a ten-year-period, Amestris loses 230 people just to the games. That's forgetting the wars, the crimes, and the ill. The odds wouldn't be in the favor of a person from tiny Resembool.

I stand up off the ground and look down at him, smiling widely. "You're right, I'm just over-thinking. Today does that to everybody." Brother nods and lays back down, shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm. I glance up at the sun. It is almost time for us to head to the train station. "Brother, we should probably get going soon. If we miss the train, then Central Headquarters will surely have our heads."

"Yeah, yeah. I understand." Edward uncovers one eye. "But you know what we have to do first."

"Of course I do." The smile stays on my face. I will not let it falter. I have to stay strong today, just as Brother tries to do.

We continue our yearly ritual by trekking to the cemetery. We both crouch in front of the grave. _Trisha Elric_, it reads. Our mother. We draw our respected half of the circle and we both place our hands on the edge.

As the flowers transmute on the grass in front of the grave, I think about my mother, which isn't much that I can remember. She died when I was five, and everything is all a fog. I know that she went away with father and she never came back. Father didn't either; we don't even have a grave for him. When she died, we didn't even get her body back. I stare at the grave. The only marker we have of her death is the tombstone.

I feel a tear fall from my eye and Brother's hand covers my own. I glance at him, and he keeps his stoic stare on the grave. I close my eyes and pray for us to stay just a little longer here before we head off to East City.

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"You guys are lucky that you didn't miss the train!" Winry loudly reprimands. Other people on the train glance at her and she lowers herself down into her seat. A dark embarrassed blush tints her cheeks. Or is it from anger. "Do you know what would have happened if you two missed the reaping?" she angrily asks in a hushed whisper. Both. The coloring to her cheeks has to be both from embarrassment and anger. Classical Winry.

"We didn't mean to be late. We got held up. It was a complete accident," Ed argues.

"Just like I accidentally hit you with my wrench again?" she threatens, holding up a wrench as a shadow darkens her face.

Brother and I both cower into one another, afraid to get matching bumps to the ones that Winry already greeted us with. Just thinking about it made my head throb.

"Winry, as much as I wish to take my frustration out on them too, I would back off a little," Pinako suggests. "You wouldn't want to break out from stress, and you don't want them to be covered with bumps and bruises. People would think ill of Resembool. Remember, we need to proudly represent our town," she says, holding her head high.

Winry, Ed, and I nod. Of course we want to do this. There are already problems with Resembool – we live in East Area and we live by Ishval. A terrible combination. There has never been a victor from Resembool. There have barely been any victors from East Area. Apart from the Command Central in East City, we are considered the slums of Amestris; everybody dies here.

The train heads towards East City; that's where the reaping takes place. All the trains are leaving from each city and heading there. Everybody in the area has to meet there. Today is the reaping.

Today is the Promised Day.

It has been this day every year since I was born – and before then. The Promised Day marks the day that five tributes – each person between the age of five and eighteen – are chosen from East Area to participate in the Philosopher Games against the other twenty tributes from the rest of the Areas. It was this day 59 years ago that Central was raided by Amestrians while the country's soldiers were fighting a pointless war against Aerugo.

The Amestrians were quickly detained by the State Alchemists stationed in Central at the time.

The war with Aerugo continues.

And the Philosopher Games were started.

Everyone still pays the price for the invasion that day. The Games offer entertainment to the people in Central. The Games offer fear for the rest of us. Even after Fuhrer Bradley attained power, he kept the Philosopher Games in affect. The Games are a reminder that nobody is safe, even those of us that are innocent in both mind and body.

There are two things that need to be kept in mind when regarding the games. One: don't be chosen for the games. Two: if you are, prepare to die. At least that's the way the games work if you're from East Area. If you're from Central, the second thing to remember probably changes to "kill". The people from Central are usually brutes.

There are only two good things that come from the games: the victors are rewards with prizes for the town that the hail from. This includes an abundance of supplies, medicine, food, and other necessities. The second is that the victor is able to travel with their blood relatives to different areas.

To truly be free, as brother says.

I feel something shift against my shoulder and I turn my head, craning my neck to see. Edward has fallen asleep on my shoulder, loudly snoring. I hear a giggle, and I see Winry covering her mouth and trying her hardest to not be loud and wake him up.

Pinako glances from her seat by the window at the three of us. A frown crosses her face. "How many times are you names in the reaping?" she asks.

I frown. She's worried about us. Why wouldn't she be? She knows that we get an abnormal amount of supplies and all because Edward and I take out tesserae.

"Twelve slips," Winry says. She glances at me and quickly turns her head away. Ten slips, one for each year since she turned five. Two extra slips for the tesserae she took when she was five and six – the ages she was when Pinako took Edward and me into his household. She doesn't look away because she took some tesserae.

"Brother has twenty three slips. I have eighteen," I admit. A sound emits from Winry, and it's one I've heard every time Brother or I had taken tesserae out for the household. Guilt. Guilt because she can't do the same. "Don't worry, Winry! You won't be chosen," I say, tryig to comfort her.

It doesn't work. She looks towards me and I can her eyes getting wet. "I'm not worried about me!" she yells.

"Winry, keep your voice down low," Pinako orders. "Do not disturb everybody else."

"Okay," she responds, lowering her head. She curls up in a ball on her side of the benched-seat. "Wake me up when we get closer."

"Of course, dear," Pinako says. She brings her arm and rubs the girl's back.

It's hard to see, but Winry's body is trembling. I'm sure Pinako notices it too, for she merely closes her eyes and continues to rub circles. Fear emanates from her, just as it does from every other person on the train. It's not just a child's fear that their name will be chosen. It's the fear that a family member will lose their loved ones or that a friend will lose the ones that are close to them. It doesn't surprise me anymore to see her body shaking anymore. Every year is the same.

I stare out the window at the lush green fields that the train passes. The familiar sight and the clanking rhythm of the train against the tracks settle my nerves. My eyes start to cloud over and my sight gets blurry. Sleep takes over me as my head hits the cold window.

But an unfamiliar shaking quickly wakes me up. My eyes open and I see that the green scenery has been replaced by a stone building. I sit up and Brother's red cloak falls off of me. I follow the hand that reaches for it and I stare at my brother. People are leaving the train from behind him.

"We're here," Edward says. Short and simple, he speaks in that monotone voice of his to hide his emotion. He slips the cloak on.

"Here you go, Alphonse." I turn towards Pinako as she hands me my black vest. Winry is already standing up, putting her blue jacket on over her white dress. After I pull the vest over my head, Winry gives me a small weary smile.

The four of us exit the train, falling in line with the rest of the residents of Resembool. It is silent and solemn. Even the residents that do not have any family left to participate in the games are grave. Their dark expressions show horrors that can only be defined by the multitude of Games that they have watched over the years.

I hope I never become like that.

If this was a regular occasion, I would say that the four of us looked silly. Pinako and Winry are in the middle of our makeshift line. The two of them hold hands. Ed is on the other side of Winry and I'm on the other side of PInako, and we are both holding their hands. It is our silent prayer. But everybody looks like this today.

I glance around the crowd, making mental notes of everybody here. The pair of twins that live by the school are huddling close together, not letting go of each other even when they have to sign in. Their parents died from an illness that swept through Resembool. Their older brother, who would now be nineteen, died last year in the games. Now they live at the makeshift orphanage and they join the multitude of children that already stand in front of the stage.

Pitt, a childhood friend of ours, walks directly in front of us. His brown curly hair makes him stick out in the ranks. He signs in and waves goodbye to parents. He turns around and looks at where his family was and sees me. I hold a hand up in greeting, but he frowns. A military official shoves him and forces him to keep moving.

Ed and I go to sign in first, allowing Winry and Pinako to say their goodbyes to one another. A firm grip on each other's hands. Pinako slips away and joins the crowd of civilians no longer required to participate in the reaping or the Games.

Brother signs in and I follow him. One of the guards glances at me and frowns. "Make sure you don't have any dirt on you next year."

Winry bounds up next to me and laughs nervously. She brushes the dirt off of my arm. "I'm sorry about that, officer. It's a new technique that is used to make white clothes shine again," she explains.

The officer's frown deepens. "It doesn't look shiny."

"That's because we left it on too long. Ed, Al, let's get going," she says, laughing again. She roughly pushes us forward until we're standing at the back of the crowd, designed for the latecomers that hail from Resembool. She sighs in relief. "This is why you're not supposed to spar!" she reprimands.

"I know, I know," Ed says, shaking it off. "It doesn't matter."

The two bicker. I stare at the giant monitor that is placed above the stage at the front of the square. A camera moves, showing everybody in the crowd. Various children can be seen crying. A younger child, a five-year-old who probably has to go through this for the first time, is crying for her mother. The camera shifts angles and shows the crowd set only for the Ishvallan children and civilians, the only sort of organization that there is during the reaping.

This segregation started to happen after the Ishval rebellion that ended a couple years back. Pinako still talks about the day that the rebellion happened: all five of the tributes for the Philosopher Games were from Ishval, a rare occasion, and a tribute from Central slowly killed them in a dark way. I was only a baby at the time, but I believe the story. Truth, darkness and grimness was on Pinako's face the day she told me the story when I questioned the segregation. It horrifies me to think about it, and she kept out the most gruesome details.

"Okay, everybody, it is time to begin," a woman's voice drawls. On the stage is a tallish, pale woman with long black hair and violet eyes. She is garbed in a black dress and black gloves. There is a murmuring amongst the members of the crowd about Commanding Officer Grumman, the man that usually greets us on today.

"There's no way that can be Grumman n a dress," Brother snidely comments from beside me. It makes me smile in relief and shudder all at the same time. Last year, Commanding Officer Grumman thought it would be funny to dress in a purple dress, pink shawl, and a purple hat. He even found himself a wig and wore red lipstick.

But this woman in front of us possibly cannot be Grumman.

"Hello. Welcome to this year's reaping of the fifty-ninth Philosopher Games," she says. She is a pretty thing to look act, completely different from Grumman. But my heart hardens like ice when she speaks. She honestly scares me. "My name is Lust."

Lust gives the speech that Commanding Officer Grumman has given in the past, talking about the past and the origin of the games. It's the same speech every year, except Lust is speaking. I watch as military officials push out the cart that has the giant bowl with all of our names in it, and the additional slips for each year and tesserae we take out.

She finishes her speech and smirks at the crowd. It is cruel and unforgiving. "And remember: one is all, all is one. We are the one and our country is the all." The statement of our country, a once encouraging statement now darkened to represent the Philosopher Games. "Good luck to all of you," she says as she walks over to the bowl.

Her hand buries itself into the bowl, searching for a slip. She tenderly takes one out and unfolds it. "The first tribute for the fifty-ninth Philosopher Games from East Area is… Rick, from Ishval."

All eyes turn towards the front of the Ishval group as a small boy, with the white hair and red eyes that every Ishvallan has, walks up the stage. His eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping open, revealing some missing teeth. He turns and faces the crowd, but stares down at the ground.

Again, Lust's hand goes into the bowl, picking out another name. "Pitt, from Resembool."

It's almost as if the air is sucked out of my lungs. No, no, this can't be! I glance at Pitt, and he breathes shaky breaths. He takes a deep breath and stands up tall, keeping his hands clenched by his side. He walks to the front in long strides, refusing to falter his emotions. A crying is heard in the distance. His mother. She weeps and calls out for him. I can't bear to look at her.

"Alphonse , from Resembool." The name doesn't register with me and I stand still. Voices around me begin to chatter. Lust looks around. "Alphonse, from Resembool."

Alphonse… from Resembool. Realization hits me hard. This time makes it feel like my heart has stopped beating. The chatter around me and in the crowd is murmuring about how there are two tributes from the town. The same small town.

My feet begin moving on their own, making my body move towards the stage. Terror pulses through my veins. I don't know what to feel or what to do. I feel helpless. But I have to obey the laws. That is until I heard the words the break the flow of things. The words coming from the voice I never want to hear.

"I volunteer for tribute!"

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**So what do you think? Hate it? Love it? Think eh of it?**

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**Until next time,  
****KaidaThorn**


	2. The Five Tributes of East Area

**I've had this chapter done before I even had the first chapter done. I just wanted to wait a bit to update so everybody could get a feel for the update schedule, and I'm even updating a week earlier than I had initially planned.**

**Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! They mean a lot.**

**And remember: if you have any questions, just ask. I'm always happy to comply :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or the Hunger Games. I won't attempt to claim that I do!**

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**Chapter Two: The Five Tributes of East Area**

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Over the years, I would always find a stray cat. No, I wouldn't just accidentally find them. I would go out of my way and purposely find a cat to bring it back to Pinako's. Every time would be the same. I would show her the cat as it cutely meowed, and Pinako would say no before I even asked. Then we would get into an argument that she didn't even know what I would say and she would reply by saying it was the same thing every time.

One day, there was actually snow in Resembool. Classes were still to happen. I trekked back to Pinako's alone – Brother and Winry had already gone ahead – and I found a fluffy white cat. I took it back to Pinako's and instead of asking to keep it, I simply said, "I volunteer." I clearly remember her initial reaction. She blinked in confusion. "I volunteer!" I repeated, louder this time. I always admired the people that would volunteer, and I thought Pinako would agree with this.

To this day, I still remember her reaction. There is no possible way that I can forget. She yelled. Never once had I heard Pinako yell; she keeps her emotions under control very well. I actually thought that she was going to hit me; she didn't. She told me to never utter those words again. Ed and Winry raced down the stairs at the sudden disturbance. She turned on them and glanced at me. "Nobody in this house is to every volunteer. Remember that!"

I never understood the fear behind volunteering. It would save somebody from participating in the games. One year, somebody volunteered for their older sister because it was her last reaping. Most volunteers happen when a young child about five or six is chosen.

Now that my senses are coming back to me, I understand why Pinako reacted the way she did.

"I volunteer for tribute!" the familiar voice calls out again.

Pinako's number one rule was just broken.

"I volunteer!" The voice is struggling to stay loud and strong.

Pinako's number one rule was broken by my own brother.

Brother runs up beside me to my spot in the aisle that leads to the stage. How did I even get here? When did I get here? He throws his arms in front of me, blocking me, protecting me, from all of the cameras that lead to Central City. If this was not a serious moment, I am sure that the image of my brother, shorter than me by a considerable amount, trying to block would appear to be funny.

But as he utters the words again, I know that this is indeed one of the serious moments that belong only to the Philosopher Games. "I volunteer for tribute in place of Alphonse," he yells. There is a grave tone to him.

An amused look appears on Lust's face. She eyes him and then turns her nose up. "Now is not the period to be volunteering. That happens later."

I glance up at the telescreen. Brother's face is in the center of it. A small portion of me can be seen in the background. I watch as his eyes narrow. "I don't care!" he barks. "I'm volunteering as a tribute now!"

A small smile adorns Lust's face. "Fine, I suppose we can allow it now. Changing the order of things always adds excitement. Come up here now."

My mind is racing with everything that is going on. I can't comprehend anything that is going on. Not until Brother's back starts leaving me and heads up the aisle towards the stage.

"Brother…" I whisper, watching him leave me. I can feel my eyes widen as I reach out to him but cannot grab him. "Brother, wait, no!" I cry. My legs almost bound off, but somebody holds me from behind. I look down at my chest and see long, slender arms wrapped around my torso.

I glance over my shoulder and see Winry holding onto me. "Alphonse, please, let's just get back into line." Her voice is full of worry. "If we don't hurry, the officials will force us. Please don't make them force us," she whispers.

My head turns to the stage. Brother is already making his way up to the steps. "But Brother… I can't leave him!"

"And I can't have you leave me!" she cries, holding back some tears.

What is worst? Me being selfish? Or is it Winry being selfish? At this moment, I shouldn't even consider Winry's reaction selfish. Edward volunteered, and we couldn't change it. I couldn't change it. I turn around in her grasp and I see military officials coming towards us. I shift in her hold until she lets go, and I wrap my arms around her shoulder, leading her back to our spots in the crowd.

I couldn't afford to be selfish. I had to be here for Winry, protecting her and not putting her in harm's way of the military officials.

"And who are you?" Lust asks. Her eyebrow arches and her red lips smugly curl.

She holds the microphone over to Edward. He skeptically eyes it. "My name is Edward, from Resembool," he announces. "Alphonse is my younger brother."

"I think we have gathered that when he called out to you," Lust says, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. "But it doesn't matter. Now be a good little boy and go and join the others."

If only looks could kill. Brother's glare could literally shoot daggers at Lust right now. It had to be taking every little bit of his common sense to stay quiet, lose his dignity, and not yell at her right now. He turns and takes the few steps to join the tribute line. He stands beside Pitt and gives him a solemn nod. Pitt returns the gesture.

Two tributes are from the same town. This rarely happens. Especially with our town. To start out with, there are barely any children in Resembool because of the size. And there are a lot more children in every other town in East Area. In the years to come, people would say that this was planned, like Amestris wanted another rebellion. But we all saw Lust draw the names out of the bowl, and there is no way it can be planned with the thousands of slips in there.

I know this and everybody else knows it. Everybody just doesn't want to accept it when it's their friend, their family, or their beloved that is chosen.

I blame myself.

Lust eyes the audience as she walks back towards the bowl. "I wonder who is next?" she teases. Her slender fingers grab a slip that is directly on the top. She opens the slip. "Rose from Reole."

There are outraged cries from our crowd, yelling about the unfairness on how the name was chosen. The camera zooms on a girl with long black hair, turned towards the people of her city. Her hands can be seen held up, as if she is trying to soothe her people. The commotion dies down and she bows. She turns around and her purple eyes focus, determination clear in them. The dark burgundy of her bangs contrast well with her pale skin and black hair.

She walks up the stage and greets Lust with a nod. She walks over to the line and stands beside Brother, greeting him with a nod. She doesn't wait for a response before she turns back towards the crowd, her eyes not faltering with the emotion she's surely feeling.

"Now the moment you have all been waiting for: the final tribute," she announces. Her hand dives into the bowl and swishes around the slips of paper. She takes her time choosing one.

She is correct in saying that this is the moment that everyone waits for. It's the name that will decide if your children are safe for another year. It decides if that eighteen year-old will be able to make it to nineteen and escape the games until a special event.

It gives a heartening leeway for one more year with your loved ones.

Lust gingerly pulls out the lucky slip of paper. She opens and draws in a breath. "Well, if this isn't a surprise? I can't even remember the last time that this happened. Maybe it was the year of the rebellion," she snidely remarks. "The fifth tribute for the fifty-ninth Philosopher Games from East Area is… Winry, from Resembool."

Everything stops. Time, motion, sound. All of it. How could three names be chosen from Resembool? Why me? And why did Brother volunteer for me. How could Winry, of all people, be chosen? What does Capital City have against us?

The outraged cries from Resembool's children grow louder. In the distance, I can hear the adults. The response is the same: it's a scam. Only Resembool complains. Why would anybody else go against this? They are all safe now.

"Now, now, no need for a hissy fit. You don't want to deal with the military officials, do you?" Lust reprimands. The yelling slowly dies down, but the square still becomes silent again nonetheless. She clears her throat. "Our final tribute is Winry, from Resembool. Can you come up here, miss?"

I subconsciously tighten my grip around Winry's shoulders. I keep my sight on the stage, afraid to look towards the girl beside me. Ed and Pitt are also frozen on the stage. Fear. Frustration. Surely they're feeling one or the other. Maybe even both. But they keep their eyes down towards their feet. They can't speak up, or they'll face a punishment worst than the games.

My heart starts beating harder, thumping against my chest. The beat of my heart is the only thing I can hear and the only thing I can feel. I don't even feel Winry stop trembling. I finally glance at her and she is frozen. She is more than afraid. I don't even know what word to do it. Her eyes aren't fixated on anything, but they are wide and trembling more than her body did.

The military officials are walking into the crowd now, demanding to know where Winry is. Nobody responds. Until the officials start getting rough. An official roughly grabs a small child by the shirt collar, lifting him into the air. The child kicks his legs, trying to get down, as a horrified squeal escapes his lips. Harrison – a boy that goes to school with me – pushes at the official. I still can't hear, but I see Harrison point in my direction at Winry.

The official nearly drops the kid and Harrison catches him. The selfish side of me is frustrated that Harrison pointed Winry out. The rational side makes me realize that I would have done the same if it was somebody else and not Winry.

"Alphonse!" Winry cries.

She is already being dragged away. When did that even happen? The military officials already have her. I'm already losing Brother… I can't lose her too. But what… What do I do?

Winry is refusing to walk and is literally being dragged. She jerks in the guards reach and she elbows him beneath the chin. He releases his grasp on her and his hands immediately reach for his chin. She runs back towards me, and I know what I have to do.

I dash forward. I move in front of Winry before the official can gather his bearings and come back for Winry. He looks up at me and scowls, but I keep my eyes narrowed and I glare at him. I can't lose Whitney. I just can't lose her.

I whisper something and I can't even hear myself say it. Winry apparently does because I hear her whisper my name. "No…" she whispers.

The guard takes a threatening step towards us. And it's now or never. Winry is the one and I will become the all.

"I volunteer for tribute," I say. Each word is said in the same tone – strong and unfaltering.

The official's eyes widen in shock and confusion. I can only guess what is going through his mind. Does he force Winry, me, or both of us up onto stage? The children of Resembool are silent and the rest of the crowd is chattering, wondering why the Reaping isn't progressing. I can see more officials arrive. They stand behind the official that is before me, wondering the same thing as the rest of the crowd.

I turn towards the stage, and I see that the officials, Winry, and I are on the telescreen. "I volunteer for tribute!" I announce with a loud and proud voice. An amused look flashes on Lust's face before it's quickly replaced by a frown. Brother is already loudly protesting, but he can't stop the decision I have already made. There is no turning back.

I take a few steps towards the aisle, but I am stopped when Winry grabs the back of my shirt. I keep my eyes forward and her grasp around my vest tightens. I close my eyes. "I'm sorry, Winry," I murmur, jerking away. She lets go, and I can feel her eyes staring at my back.

The officials move out of my way as I move towards them, afraid to get in the way of somebody that had stood up to them and volunteered. My moment of power over them would quickly cease, but I still momentarily have it. I make it to the aisle and I walk down it, all eyes on me. This is different, weird, than any other thing that I have experienced. All these eyes on me quickly make me realize the fear that I am feeling, and the fact that I have just sent myself to my death.

My eyes focus on the stage. The only thing that catches my attention is the two men that are holding Brother back. His mouth is moving, but I can't hear what he is saying. Time slows down and I actually manage to read Brother's lips. "Alphonse, you idiot!" His lips move in other ways, but this is the thing that I can perceive.

I walk onto the stage and my senses are back to normal. Lust greets me with a smirk. "Well, if this isn't a surprise. You just couldn't stay away, now could you, Alphonse from Resembool?"

"Of course not. Not when it means protecting something that is important to me," I say. It sounds cheesy and unreal. But it's true. I would rather be here than have Winry up on this stage. My eyes scan the crowd for her, but I can't see her.

"How admirable of you," she compliments. "It's a thing that not many people would do." She pauses for a moment, glancing over at Edward who is still fighting with the official that holds him. "And are you ready to fight that little brother of yours to the death?"

The antenna-like hair on Brother's head twitches. He elbows the official in the gut and he's dropped to the ground. He quickly stands up and jolts over to Lust, causing officials to come over to defend her. I also move toward him. She holds her hand up, and they stop. But I quickly wrap my arms around Edward and hold him back. Brother still manages to point his finger angrily at her. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE CALLING A TINY IGNORAMUS THAT CAN'T DO ANYTHING FOR HIMSELF!?" Brother had officially lost it.

Lust laughs in amusement. Luckily somebody enjoyed it; the military officials don't have a reason to kill him. Yet. "And this is going to be such an interesting Philosopher Games. But before we continue, I need to ask: is there anybody else out there willing to volunteer themselves as tribute on behalf on one of the five up here?"

Nobody responds. And why should they? Any sane person isn't stupid enough to volunteer themselves as tribute. That's why Brother and I are up here. Brother finally calms down and he relaxes in his grasp. He feels relief that nobody will suffer in his place.

"No one? Then this completes the Reaping. East Area, I present to you the five tributes that will be representing you in the fifty-ninth Philosopher Games. One is all, all is one. We are the one and our country is the all. Good luck to all of you," Lust finishes with a long drawl.

The traditional music begins to play, signaling the end of the Reaping. Brother turns towards the audience and his mouth gaps in awe. I turn to see what has caught his attention, and I have the same reaction. Everybody – the children, the adults, and the Ishvallans – are giving us the universal sign of good luck in Amestris. They clap their hands together in a sort of prayer – or a circle-free transmutation – and bow their heads.

It's different to be on the receiving end of this. Brother and I glance at one another, and I recognize the look in his eye. We are thinking the same thing. It's a small gesture, but we have never seen it happen before. And tradition is meant to be broken.

We return the gesture, clapping our hands and bowing our heads. The three other tributes follow what we do. One is all, all is one. Us tributes are the one and our family, our friends, our towns are the all.

* * *

Everything happens quickly. We are rushed into East Command Headquarters and put into separate rooms. Somebody decides that it is only fair for Brother and me to be put in the same room. I decide that it's a terrible idea.

After we are ushered into a room and the official leaves, Brother quickly turns on me. "What the hell are you thinking, Alphonse? How could you be so stupid to volunteer after I had volunteered for you in the first place?"

"Stupid?" I ask. My voice quickly rises. "Stupid?!" How was I the stupid one? He was the stupid one for charging headfirst in without thinking. "I couldn't just stand by and let Winry go into the games, now could I? Did you want her to participate?"

"I could at least protect her!" Edward shoots back. He glares up at me. I am literally lost for words. He has a point. In a place like the Games, Winry, as free-spirited and determined as she is, would still listen to him. I, however, am rational and have been known to steer away from what he has told me.

"I don't need protecting, Edward!" I argue. "We're Brothers, a team! And there can be two victors. We can win this!" I hesitate, thinking about the words I just chose. I clench my hand. "No, we will win!"

"If that isn't confidence then I don't know what," an old voice says.

We both turn towards the door. Pinako and Winry are both standing there. Pinako is holding her pipe in her mouth and Winry keeps her eyes on the floor.

"It's that sort of determination that will win," Pinako continues. She takes a long drag on her pipe and looks up at us from behind her glasses.

"When did you get in here, Granny?" Edward asks cooly. He is somewhat calm, but there is still an edge to his voice.

"Does it matter? We're here now," Pinako says. "And we're not here to say bye, especially after hearing Alphonse say that you two are going to win."

"Pinako…" I say. My words trail off.

"What are the chances of us both winning?" Edward asks with skepticism evident in his voice. "Hell, what are the chances of even one of us winning?"

"You heard your brother. You are brothers, a team! You also have the strength and determination to win," Pinako argues. "Win this and return to Resembool. It's about time we had a victor."

There's a knock on the door. "Time is almost up," someone says.

Edward glances off to the side, thinking. I look Pinako square in the eyes. "Don't worry, we can do this."

"Good," she hums.

Winry finally looks up, her eyes filled with tears. "Al, I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't apologize to him," Edward says. He grins widely at her. "He's too stubborn to let you fight in this. Besides, somebody has to give Granny some company. Do you really want him to do that? He would bring home every stray he found."

Winry laughs, but chokes on some of the tears stuck in her throat. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but she quickly closes it. Instead, she jumps for us and envelops both of us into a hug. "Make sure you come back. If you don't, I'll kill you myself."

"You'll have to get in line behind twenty-three other people then," Edward jokes. It's light-hearted, but it still builds the tension in the room. Winry tightens her hold on us.

The door opens and there stands a short and bulky military official. "It's time to go, Misses," he says.

Winry pulls away from us and blinks away some tears. She focuses her eyes and nods at us. She wants us to win. And of course we are going to. She turns and walks out of the room, and Pinako turns to follow but she stops.

"Don't make me regret not saying bye to you two," Pinako says. "You may not have your childhood home anymore, but our door, like it always has, will be open to you." She walks out of the room without giving a chance for either of us to respond.

"The train will be leaving to Central soon. Your mentor for the game has been chosen and he will mentor both of you. Gather your bearings now," the official says before closing the door and leaving us to our thoughts.

The thought finally sets in. Winry and Pinako are gone, probably already leaving headquarters. How long will it be until we can see them again? If we will ever be able to see them again. No, that is not the mindset I should be having. I have already decided that we will win. The tributes from Resembool will win.

A realization hits me. "Brother, what about Pitt? What are we going to do about him?"

Brother's golden eyes widen. He closes them and takes a deep breath. "Looks like he won't be able to be better than me," he finally says, opening his eyes and focusing them on the ground.

"What do you mean?"

"There can only be two victors of the Philosopher Games."

Only. A word that means a limitation. I have already said that Brother and I are going to win the games. So what does that mean for Pitt, a friend and resident of Resembool?

Pitt is going to have to die. Just like everyone else.

* * *

**So yeah... Poor Pitt -shifts eyes uncomfortably- My friend felt really bad for him when she read this. But who knows! Pitt could win! After all, there are two victors xD**

**Anyways... If you have questions, comments, or concerns - anything of the sort - just review or private message me. I'm always a fan of talking thrugh private messages.**

**Until next time,  
KaidaThorn**


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